Remembering the Good Ole Days
by MSCSIFANGSR
Summary: Grissom looks back on his life with Sara. PRE & POST Series ONLY. Chadini's Las Vegas Metro Crime Challenge #6, not the emphasis of story, but it's there. COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**TITLE:** Remembering the Good Ole Days

**AUTHOR:** MSCSIFANGSR aka Chauncey10

**PAIRING:** G/S

**RATING:** PG-13

**SUMMARY:** Grissom remembers his and Sara's past. Pre and Post series.

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm just playing with them.

**WARNING:** This is very far into the future and far into the past. There are major CD's mentioned in this work, nothing graphic.

**SPOILERS:** Every show aired to date in the US

**BETAS:** Stephen Greenwood and BeckyCSI

**THANKS:** To my friends for letting me use their names and likenesses in my stories; To JellybeanChiChi for naming Ecklie's wife in one of her stories; To Greg for all your help; To Chadini just because her challenges seem to inspire me. And to KeeganElizabeth for helping me with the ending.

**PROMPT:** Chadini's Las Vegas Metro Crime Code Challenge #6: 417 Family disturbance. It's not the focus of the story, but its in there somewhere, I think.

**NOTE FROM AUTHOR:** I will update this story religiously every Monday. There is the prologue, five regular chapters and then an epilogue. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story. I certainly had fun writing it.

* * *

Remembering the Good Ole Days

* * *

Prologue

September 2045

"Well, let's see, how did it all begin?" The old man spoke quietly but his voice was steady even though he had suffered at least two strokes and no telling how many TIAs. His usually bright blue eyes were closed in apparent sleep with his head tilted slightly downward, but his active mind was lost in thoughts of the woman he had loved for so long.

The silence that followed his statement seemed indefinite.

"What was her name?" The young woman asked loudly, breaking the silence of the room, thinking the man was perhaps hard of hearing. Her thumb sharply ran the length of the bottom of his right foot that lay exposed without sock or shoe on her uniformed thigh. His toes curled in response to her action.

"I'm not deaf, my dear girl, nor am I asleep. I was thinking of Sara. If you would have asked, I would have told you I had a positive Babinski." Wrinkles lined the formerly handsome face of the octogenarian who sat passively in his wheelchair, his right arm hung uselessly by his side.

"Was she your wife?" His new therapist questioned.

"Yes, but she was so much more than that. First she was my student, then my friend, my employee, my lover, my wife, the mother of my children, my life, my everything." A single tear rolled down the right side of his face, unfelt by the man secondary to the fact the right side of his face had lost all feeling since his second major stroke.

The young brunette physical therapist looked at the man with his right leg propped unceremoniously in her lap. She knew from reading his medical history his first stroke had been triggered by the stress of losing his wife of close to 36 years. The second and more severe stroke had occurred earlier this year. Dr. Grissom had been in the nursing home since his wife had died.

His oldest son was his responsible party, but his other three children came to visit the retired scientist almost daily. The therapist had met the oldest son, James, along with his two children, upon her initial evaluation of his father. She had yet to meet the others, but they typically came after usual therapy hours.

The man was a legend around the city in which they lived. He was a retired city employee, she had read on his chart, a criminalist and an entomogologist of noted fame.

He had many visitors at the facility in which he now lived, almost on a daily basis a budding forensic criminalist student from the university, sometimes it may be a police officer but someone always came calling to pick the elderly man's brain on his knowledge of entomology and crime scene investigation. The visitors often showed up around lunch time, and Grissom always welcomed them. Dr. Grissom's mind was still sharp as a tack; it was his body that had betrayed him.

Jill had met one of the instructor from the university, an older man named Dr. David Hodges, but she kept a wide berth when he came on Tuesdays. Something about the older man troubled her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he gave her the creeps.

Jill Dillard repeated her question to Gilbert Grissom that had sparked the conversation between the two of them. "How did you meet your wife?"

The old man closed his eyes again, with his head tilted in the same manner as before, but Jill realized he hadn't nodded off again but was merely thinking.

Several minutes passed before Grissom opened his cobalt eyes and looked the therapist up and down before speaking softly, "A 417 that turned into a multiple 420 with chain saws." His blue eyes sparkled as he spoke.

She looked him in the eye and thought his eyes were as clear as the midday sky without a cloud in sight.

"Excuse me? Speak English. I don't speak you're old police language." Jill said, slightly aggravated, as she stretched his spastic right lower extremity.

"Okay, I'll speak slowly so you can understand me, child." His voice held a hint of amusement. "A...family...disturbance," he paused and grinning at Jill, "with...multiple...homicides, probably from the...use...of...chainsaws."

Jill looked at the man with a slight horrified expression. Then she said, "I'm 34 years old, Dr. Grissom. I'm not a child."

"But when our story began, you were hardly more than a sparkle in your father's eyes. In fact, it's been almost fifty years since the events leading up to our first meeting. Therefore, I think I can call you a child. No offense intended." Gil Grissom's smirk was still one of his best features.

Jill attempted a smirk but instead offered, "None taken. I got all day, why don't you tell me your story?"

"I don't have anything better to do myself," He said as he smiled into her green eyes.

**TBC**

**Reviews are found amusing, although not entirely necessary, they are graciously welcomed. :) chauncey**


	2. Chapter 1

See Prologue for Disclaimers and Other Notes

This story is dedicated to my wonderful betas across the pond: Stephen Greenwood and BeckyCSI.

_Until the Epilogue, this story is a Flashback told by Grissom to his therapist. Please make note of this while reading._

Also there is a good bit of foreshadowing contained in this chapter, so if you spot something that looks familiar, then it probably is. Shout outs to the following Episodes: "One Hit Wonder", "Spellbound", "Toe Tags", and "Sweet Jane". And if you see something that maybe I didn't mention that's in one of the episodes, let me know.

My undying gratitude to all who have reviewed the previous chapter and thanks to everyone who was kind and read it anyway.

* * *

Remembering The Good Ole Days

* * *

Chapter One

March, 1996

The soon to be thirty three year old blonde CSI flopped down into the solid plastic chair in the break room. Catherine Willows looked at her coworker, Gil Grissom, who was filling in a crossword puzzle with a felt tipped pen. Across the table sat another CSI, Conrad Ecklie. His thinning brown hair was combed over, auspiciously to cover the fact he was going bald.

Catherine sighed and drank some cola from the can she'd managed not to spill, while juggling several overstuffed manila folders. Conrad and Gil both looked up at her with some apprehension. Their boss, the Director of the Crime Lab of Las Vegas Metro Police Department, Robert Carvallo had given her some old case files for the three of them to look over, hoping they would be able to shed a bit of new light on them.

"Whatcha got, Cat?" Ecklie leered at her prominent cleavage as she leaned over the table setting the files down.

"Don't you dare call me that," she hissed.

"Cat and Connie calm down." Grissom smirked as the two of them threw daggers first between them and finally settling on Gil. "Hey, we're all on a first name basis, no need to resort to nicknames we hate."

There was a complete silence that followed.

"Well, Catherine, what do you have?" Gil asked.

"Carvallo gave me these case files for us to go over since there seems to be a lack of crime scenes that need investigating. There are fifteen files, so I figured we could go over five each. If that's okay with the two of you." Her voice sounded almost smug as she handed he men five files each and kept some for herself.

"Where is Flannery tonight?" Conrad asked. "It would go a lot quicker if our other team member was present."

"I think Terry went up to Tahoe for a few days with his wife," Grissom answered.

"Vacation?" Ecklie wondered out loud.

"Yeah," Catherine volunteered. "With the crazy hours we work, I heard Samantha was thinking of leaving him. Not that it would ever happen between me and Eddie or you and Diane, Conrad, and Gil is married to his job, so he doesn't have to worry." She looked at her friend, "How did your date go with the woman that's a dealer at the Rampart?"

Grissom hesitated before answering her. "The usual. Anita is her name. We went out to eat, we talked, I got paged to go to a crime scene. Date over. I don't have high hopes for date number two."

"I could set you up with Diane's sister, Carol, if you need someone, Gil." Conrad smiled at the most senior investigator of their team.

"No thank you." Grissom's attention was fully on the opened file before him. "I remember this one, the victim was stabbed twenty-seven times. We thought it was his wife, but she had an airtight alibi, no other suspects."

Conrad flipped through his stack. It was a case from 1991. _Oh God, she gave me the Wallace case_, he thought to himself.

"This is one that should be considered solved. Claire Wallace may have fallen off the face of the earth, but Officer Gordon Wallace has always maintained his wife left him. No reason not to believe him; he is an officer of the law. The fact that Detective Packey Jameson is obsessed over this case is the only reason this case is still open." Ecklie announced to his two fellow criminalists.

"Want to trade the Wallace case for an unsolved teenager, Jane Doe 170-96, whose body was found out in the 'Alphabets'?" Catherine looked at Ecklie. "You know that area, right? A Street, B Street, C Street."

Ecklie shrugged his shoulders and was about to say 'yes' to the trade when he noticed that Catherine was a little too eager to get hold of the Wallace case. "No, I'll go through it again."

Catherine eyed Ecklie, the daggers were flying again. Grissom just smiled and looked back down at his own unsolved mystery.

There was silence for around fifteen minutes as the three CSIs read and reviewed the files.

A sudden loud page over the intercom interrupted their work. "Gil Grissom, call dispatch."

Grissom stood and went to pick up the black phone on the wall near the door of the break room.

Catherine watched as he ambled over with his bowlegged gait. "You know," she said, as he was picking up the receiver, "the county should get us cell phones, It would be more efficient."

Ecklie frowned in Catherine's direction, "I don't think that will ever happen."

They returned to their work as Grissom listened for a few minutes to the other end of the phone line. When he hung up, he walked over to his chair, grabbed his black coat and headed toward the door.

Catherine stopped him as he was walking out. "Where are you going?"

"O'Riley pulled a 417, and when he got there he discovered a multiple 420."

"You need our help?" Ecklie asked as he pushed back from the table.

"No, there are bugs."

Ecklie grimaced.

Catherine muttered something like, "Gross."

And Grissom left the room.

* * *

Grissom carried a yellow toolbox into the stuffy garage where he was met with the buzz cut detective, who needlessly pointed out the bodies and their parts that were scattered haphazardly around the garage . Grissom bent down and examined the two bodies covered in blood, dirt and surrounded by flies. He picked up the severed arm of one of the men, which was covered in flies.

"Aww, my favorite, green blow flies." Gil smiled as he opened his toolbox and got his tweezers. He picked up one of the fly pupal casings from one of the bodies and studied it closely. "The bodies have been dead for at least a few days. How was this a family disturbance?" He questioned O'Riley.

"It seems the wife and kids went to Disneyland without the hubby for two weeks, she's got hotel receipts and tickets and pictures each day. So it doesn't look like she's a suspect. She comes out to the garage when she can't find the hubby, because his car is blocking the garage door. She started screaming when she found this," he pointed to the two deceased, "The two boys, 10 and 15, came out and saw this," he again pointed to the bodies, "they screamed. They all started yelling for a time. The neighbor called us because it sounded like a hellava family disturbance. And _voila_ , here we are."

"Any idea which is the husband or who the other victim is?" Grissom questioned.

"The wife says the one closest to the door leading to the kitchen is her husband. She doesn't have a clue who the other guy is, or so she says."

"Looks like they were chopped up by a chainsaw." Grissom reflected as he snapped several quick pictures with his Polaroid camera. Each print slowly developed, showing the grisly crime scene.

O'Riley had left him alone and went into the house to question the family.

He quickly took several samples of the flies and maggots placing them carefully into sealed cups. He would deal with the time line regression if he needed to - he really wanted to, but it was not admissible evidence in court.

Gil began to gather other evidence and soon two guys from the coroner's office showed up to get the bodies. After they were removed, Grissom continued to grid the garage for further evidence.

He found bloody shoe prints leading toward an outside exit door, an he also found a trail of large blood drops along side the tracks. He put evidence markers on each and took more photos, this time with his county-issued Canon camera. He took fingerprints from the doorknob, finding a couple of good prints he hoped would point to a suspect.

He then went back to where the bodies had been and began sketching a crude crime scene picture, trying to carefully match the blood pools and splattering. He theorized to himself as he pictured the struggle in his mind, that a killer had come upon the two men with a chainsaw, cutting the men in pieces. _At least that's what the evidence is telling me,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Grissom had finished with the timeline regression of the green blow flies that he'd found yesterday at his crime scene and was studying the results. _That's odd_, he thought to himself as he checked and rechecked the raw data. The blowflies indicated the men had been dead for at least six days, not day two to three as he had initially suspected.

He opened the case file and spread the photographic evidence out on the floor of his tiny office. He made a quick call to the blood analysis expert, Brenda Kennedy, and asked her to run a check on the blood evidence from his case. He wanted to know if it was actual human blood, because either the blowflies were wrong, the flies had been planted or the crime scene had been staged.

He didn't notice any irregularities when he was at the crime scene and not many people in the world knew anything about the feeding habits of green blowflies, much less to be able to plant them on bodies, so he studied the photographs of the crime scene.

After a about thirty minutes, he was still truly puzzled. When his beeper buzzed with the coroner's number showing a 9-1-1, he knew the Clark County Coroner had found something in the autopsy that would probably break the case open.

Grissom ran down the short flight of stairs to the coroner's office. Dr. Wade Wilson greeted him as he entered the brightly lit room decorated in stainless steel.

"What do you have, Wade?" Grissom asked the aged pathologist.

"Gil, since you were a coroner for several years before you became a CSI, I thought I would call you in for a consultation. These guys have me stymied." He pointed to the two bodies from Grissom's crime scene. Wilson's reading glasses had slipped down his nose. The white haired gentleman was scheduled to retire within several weeks to be replaced by the head coroner from Arlington, Virginia, a Dr. Albert Robbins.

"What do you need me to look at?" Grissom grabbed a white lab coat from the standing coat rack and placed it carefully over his dark work clothes.

"Look at this," the older man said as he rolled one of the victims onto his side. "Lividity is all wrong. The blood is pooled on Mr. Wilson's, no relation, right side and here on Mr. Hughes, it's on his left side."

"Yes, I see what you mean. The bodies must have been moved." Grissom eyed the corpses on the slab without emotion.

Wilson picked up two small plastic containers, showing the contents to the veteran CSI. Grissom's mouth opened as he stared at the new evidence.

"Looks like six .38 slugs from Mr. Wilson and five .457 slugs in Mr. Hughes." Wilson smiled at Grissom.

"So my chainsaw victims are really gunshot victims?" Gil asked incredulously.

"You know what they say young man, _First opinions are crucial, but if the evidence changes, so must the theory_."

Gil Grissom chuckled with the pathologist. "Wade, can I use that line?"

"Of course, Gil. I'd be honored." Wilson replied.

**TBC**

**Reviews are found amusing, although not entirely necessary, they are graciously welcomed. :) chauncey**


	3. Chapter 2

See Prologue for Disclaimers and Other Notes

Thank you to my two wonderful betas: Stephen Greenwood and BeckyCSI. Thanks Greg for your help, too.

_Until the Epilogue, this story is a Flashback told by Grissom to his therapist. Please make note of this while reading._

Also there is a good bit of foreshadowing contained in this chapter, so if you spot something that looks familiar, then it probably is. Shout outs to the following Episodes: "Toe Tags", "Who Are You", "Too Tough to Die" "Way to Go" and "Pilot". If you see something from the series that I didn't mention, please let me know--I like to get my stuff straight.

My undying gratitude to all who have reviewed the previous chapters, and thanks to all that have read.

* * *

Remembering The Good Ole Days

**

* * *

**Chapter 2

September 1998

"Grissom, you've got mail." Catherine Willows threw the brown 8"x11" envelope into her friend's chest. "It's from the Forensic Academy. They're very prestigous. What do they want with you?"

Grissom blushed slightly under her scrutiny. "You know I have a doctorate in Entomology and many people respect that, plus I am one of the few people in the world who know the difference between venomous and non-venomous spiders."

He laughed and smiled as he pointed to a spider unobtrusively climbing up her right arm.

Catherine screamed and brushed the spider off with her other hand quickly stepping on the spider with her Gianna Meliani's. She looked up into Grissom's horrified face and said, "I don't care if he was a close, personal friend of yours, Gil. I hate spiders."

Grissom stared at her for a few minutes before remembering the brown envelope in his hands. He pulled out several sheets of paper, shuffling through them quickly, scanning their contents into his active brain.

Catherine was intrigued. "What did you get, Gil?"

"Oh, the Forensic Academy wants me to present a case study at next year's conference in San Francisco," he said. He didn't realize nor could he comprehend the fact the merely speaking at this conference was going to change his life forever.

"Does it have to be case study based or do they want you do a presentation from your findings from your study of those creepy, crawly bugs you studied when you went to the rainforest last year?" She frowned.

"It says 'case study' so that must be what they are requesting." He re-read the opening page of the letter more intently.

Catherine saw the new firearms technician, Bobby Dawson, as he approach them as Gil had concluded his statement.

Bobby looked first to Grissom, then to the only female CSI and said, "Catherine, I have the results in from your gang shooting."

"Thank you, Bobby." He handed her the printed page that confirmed the 16 year old suspect was shooter in her latest case, before he made his way back to the Ballistics Lab.

"I sure do wish I was single. He's hot. I used to hate having to get ballistics reports, but since he started working here, I like having cases involving guns." Catherine purred.

Grissom looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted purple hair and a Mohawk. "What about Eddie?"

"What about him?" She challenged.

"Nothing," he relented.

"You had or gone on any dates recently?" Catherine turned the tables back to Gil.

"Yes and no."

"What does that mean?" Catherine spoke quite loudly.

"It means yes, I had dates, but no I haven't gone out on any lately." Gil looked uneasily down at his shoes.

"You know, you really need a life outside of law enforcement. You know, like a diversion, a hobby, an amusement? How long has it been since you got laid?" She blurted as an afterthought.

Catherine watched as his irises enlarged. She could see a small tick at his right eyelid. "None of your business," he intoned.

"That long, huh?" She smiled. He didn't bite. She continued. "Maybe you'll meet the woman of your dreams at this conference." He shook his head as if to dismiss her. "When is it?"

"It says here the middle of this coming January. Conference runs from the 13th, on a Sunday through to the 19th,the following Saturday."

"I do sincerely hope you do find the woman that can make all your dreams come true: one that doesn't care that your job is more important to you than she is; one that doesn't care when you come home smelling like decomp; one that will love you regardless of your idiosyncrasies. You need a woman, Griss."

"I know."

He left her and made his way into his new larger office. The lab director had allowed him more space since he kept more experiments going than any of the other CSIs and the subtle little fact that his case solve rate was among the highest in the nation.

He sat down at his desk, lost in thought for a few minutes, finally coming up with the perfect premise for his case study: his old friend, Wade Wilson, their former pathologist, had recently passed away. He would honor Wade with his words of wisdom.

* * *

Several months went by. The subject of the Forensic Academy Conference was not brought up by Catherine again and Grissom had hoped she'd forgotten.

He certainly had not forgotten.

He spent hours on writing and researching his topic; practicing his presentation before a mirror. He was nervous about this conference, whereas in the past, he would gather appropriate materials, write his topic paper and be done with it. He had never, even as a high school debate team member, practiced a speech in front of a mirror.

He eyed himself in the mirror. Gray hair mixing in his brown slightly wavy hair, which would curl the longer he went between trips to the barber. Face covered in stubble, he was thinking of growing his beard again to cover that infernal cleft in his chin. Some bags under his eyes, no wrinkles, but a few crow's feet or laugh lines at the edge of his eyes. _Overall,_ he thought, _not bad, for a 42 year old. _

Some of the women he'd dated over the years (yes, he did complete a few and even had a few sleepovers here and there) had said he was handsome, but he'd never seen handsome in his face. He had always suspected the woman of flattering him to entice him into something more.

If he was honest with himself, he knew he wanted a fulfilling relationship with a woman. He wondered if that was even possible. He really wanted to believe Catherine's prediction of him finding the woman of his dreams at this conference.

* * *

It was a couple of days past New Year's Day 1999 and two weeks before the conference when Catherine recalled he would be gone for a week for the prestigious conference.

"Gil, will you bring Lindsey something back from San Francisco?" The strawberry blonde questioned.

"Sure. What?" He glanced up at her for a moment before reaching to push his newly acquired reader's glasses up his nose. He returned to his crossword puzzle, not daring to look at her directly. He knew she could always read him like a book and he knew something she didn't and he was unwilling to tell her.

"She's seven: what difference would it make? Just something, anything. She loves her 'Uncle Gil'." Catherine smiled at her apparently indifferent friend.

"I'll make sure I get her something, then." Grissom still wouldn't look at her in the eye because a few hours earlier he had seen her husband, Eddie, coming out of a hotel room, wrapped in a much younger woman's arms.

"Thank you. What did you do to Conrad? He is royally pissed at you." Catherine struck a pointed pose in the doorway as she pretended to leave the room.

"Ugh, I went out on a date with his sister-in-law, Carol, on New Year's Eve. He's mad because I haven't returned her phone calls." He quickly looked back down to his puzzle. Ignoring her pointed gaze. He lifted the newspaper closer to his face, as if he were trying to read the small type face, when instead, he was merely hiding from her.

"I have four questions: Why didn't you tell me? You had an honest to God, real date that was not interrupted? How did that happen? And why won't you call her back? "

"I didn't think it was necessary, Mother. Yes, it was not interrupted by work because Conrad covered for me; and I'll explain why I'm never going to call that woman, ever."

She had never seen Gil demonstrate any evidence that certain situations bothered him or even known him to display anger on a regular basis, but she could tell he was angry at the woman. Catherine eyed him suspiously for a moment and after she prompted him for further information, he confinded to her.

"We ate. We talked. We even danced. It was during an especially slow song nearing midnight when she became quite amorous. Much to my chagin."

Grissom sat semi-shielded by his newspaper from her gaze and Catherine was beginning to become amused.

"After a few more drinks and another dance, she became more and more blazen with her attempts. She began to be increasingly more aggressive. I, then realized Carol only wanted to get into my pants but she was drunker that I realized, seems she had a problem with acohol. When we left the club, she let me know in so many words what she would do to me when I got her home. Frankly, she scared me. When I walked her to her front door, her temper flared when I went to leave without accepting her invitation for more She grabbed me and practically molested me there on her front porch, touching me inappropriately and trying in vain to kiss me."

His gaze never wavered from his newspaper as he told Catherine the story.

Catherine had never seen him turn that shade of magenta.

"I ran back to my car," he continued. "She's called me at home so many times, that I've lost count and here at work, she's left at least different six messages. I don't know how to get her off my back. And to make matters worse, Conrad keeps staring at me like he's going to murder me."

"Oh my God, Gil. Really?" Catherine smirked. She tried to picture the incident in her mind and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to laugh. "Why didn't you go on and screw her anyway, sounded like she really wanted you?"

"She...uhm...she's not what I want. I couldn't, every time I looked at her, I saw a desperate 40 year old woman wanting more than I could ever give her. What's the new term? Cougar?" Willows only nodded her head to reply to his question. "She was drunk and I didn't take advantage of her. Why am I the bad guy?"

"I don't know, Gil. I just don't know. That's just sad."

He looked victimized. She could really picture her friend being molested by the over-eager divorcee as unlikely as that sounded.

"But hey look on the bright side: you'll be gone a week for that forensic academy conference. You can do what you do best: avoid Ecklie. He'll never believe his holier than thou sister-in-law tried to have her way with you. He probably thinks you tried to molest her. But since he's on days and we're on nights, you should be able to avoid him completely."

She could tell something else was going on with him, but instead she broached a new subject: "What do you think of our new supervisor?"

"Brass is PD, not crime lab." Grissom still didn't look her in the eye. "But he should do a good job. I like him."

"Well, I'm going to see him about our two newbies: Stokes and Brown. Brass has got to stop running new recruits off. We're short handed as it is." She laughed, a curt sound that had nothing to do with humor. "That boy from Texas almost quit yesterday because Brass called him to the carpet about missing key evidence in the Oxford case. And that good looking guy you are training, Warrick, I think Brass hates him and wants him to quit. He is riding him so hard, the boy is going to need K-Y."

The visual Catherine created in his brain was horrible and he really wanted to tell her what he'd seen earlier, but instead all he said was "See you later, Catherine."

He still hadn't looked at her when she finally left the room. He breathed a sigh of relief, Gil knew he'd dodged a bullet with his _almost_ true story about Carol coming on to him, but he just didn't know for how long he would be able keep his silence about Eddie Willow's infidelity.

Catherine Willows could read men: Grissom was hiding something from her, and she would find out sooner or later. She knew he wanted to tell her something, and it wasn't about Ecklie's sister-in-law.

**TBC**

**Reviews are found amusing, although not entirely necessary, they are graciously welcomed. :) chauncey**


	4. Chapter 3

See Prologue for Disclaimers and Other Notes

Thank you to my two wonderful betas: Stephen Greenwood and BeckyCSI. And to Greg for all his help in other areas.

_Until the Epilogue, this story is a Flashback told by Grissom to his therapist. Please make note of this while reading._

Also there is a good bit of foreshadowing contained in this chapter, so if you spot something that looks familiar, then it probably is. Shout outs to the following Episodes: "Toe Tags", "Pilot", "Burden of Proof",and "A la Carte". If I left any episode out, let me know and I'll try to make it right.

Quotes from Proverbs, William Shakespeare and Alphonse Marie de la Martine.

My undying gratitude to all who have reviewed the previous chapters and thank you to all that have read.

* * *

Remembering The Good Ole Days

* * *

Chapter Three

January 1999

Dr. Gilbert Grissom had just finished his presentation on the effects of green blowfly pupal casings, how bullets could be determined as cause of death even if a chainsaw had mutilated the bodies after death and had closed with his 'if the evidence changes, so must the theory' speech and had asked for questions from the audience.

A few of the participants began to shift expectantly in their chairs and after a pregnant pause, no one had spoken.

He was glad. He was about to say _Dismissed_, when a small feminine voice spoke out:

"How does an entomologist feel about putting insects to death as you do in your timeline regressions?"

Grissom stood open mouthed for a moment, searching the large classroom for the speaker. The young woman, with her dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, stood up to bring attention to herself as she made her way to the aisle of the auditorium.

"And you are?" He questioned, as his brain searched for a plausible answer to her question.

"Sidle, CSI San Francisco PD." Her voice stronger now than before, barking almost.

"Ms. Sidle, I tend view them as martyrs in a scientist's holy war."

The room erupted in laughter.

"Are you a Catholic, sir?" The woman continued to question him.

"Mostly." Grissom responded as he began to gather his note cards and was clicking off the projector.

"Do you find the interests of those in that religion are often at odds with the scientific methods you have described in crime scene analysis?" She spoke before he had recovered from her last question.

"Yes." He responded weakly.

She became silent.

Her voice rang out again as he was again about to dismiss the class.

"Do you belief there is a necessary dividing line between science and faith?" She had began walking toward him, as if she were personally challenging his belief system.

"Ms. Sidle, absolutely."

"Why?" She was personally challenging him.

"There is the separation of church and state. I work for the state, providing them a good day's work filled with scientific methods on the analysis of crime scenes. I cannot accept anything on faith, I can only accept hard evidence as truth as it relates to my profession." Grissom looked her in the eye. He could tell her eyes were brown.

Again, he started to dismiss the class.

"Dr. Grissom, is religion about what standard practice or is it about the relationship between an individual and what he holds most dear?"

"The former is very relative concept and as for the latter, the rituals and traditions of any given religion remain dogmatic to that particular sect." He noticed her fists slightly clinching at her sides. And the way her face flushed when she was angry.

She replied quickly. "_Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad_."

He answered without thought: "_The devil can quote scripture for his own ends_."

They stared at each, willing the other to back down, unaware they had an audience, anymore.

Grissom looked at the young woman. _She couldn't be more than 20 or 21. She's smart as a whip, but how could she be a CSI at that age? And why is she so mad at me? What have I done? _He thought to himself.

She was dressed in casual blue jeans and a maroon t-shirt bearing the word 'Harvard' stretched tightly across her chest. He could tell, even from his distance from her, she was not wearing a bra.

Gil Grissom had never considered himself a voyeur but he could easily see her hardened nipples straining against the thin fabric.

Gil Grissom had never considered himself a pervert either, but he wanted to taste the skin surrounding her nipples.

_Where the hell did that come from?_ He wondered. He was surprised at himself, never had he been so strongly sexually attracted to anyone in his life. He swallowed, hoping to quash the sudden lust he felt for this woman.

He slowly became aware of the other members of his audience: some were looking forlornly to the door, others were surreptitiously eyeing their wrist watches, some were leaning forward in their seats, ready to bolt out; others looked asleep.

"Ms Sidle, would you care to debate after the class is dismissed? Your classmates do not seem to share our affinity for the sparing of words on our anthropological argument."

The brunette nodded in affirmation, surrendering for the moment.

He dismissed the class, much to the others' relief. He gathered his briefcase and packed his projector into it's sturdy container.

She stood her ground in the aisle; sensing, rather than noticing the hostile looks from some of the other attendees, waiting for the room to clear before continuing her discussion with the instructor.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to question him, he cut her off.

"Ms Sidle, I am going to lunch if you'd like to tag along, because I am scheduled to attend the class, "Trace Analysis: Picking through the Rubble" at 1:00 with Dr. Whittington from the New Orleans Crime Lab."

"I'm scheduled to attend the same class. May I sit with you?" Her face flushed a bright pink before she grinned, showing a lovely gap toothed smile.

He swallowed again. He wanted to kiss her lips and explore her gap fully with his tongue. He again attempted to block his body's strong attraction to her.

But as she moved closer to him, he could smell the fragrance of her body lotion; it reminded him of his mother. It was the same brand she had used for years. Gil moved closer to her to inhale her scent. Thoughts of his early years sprang instantly into his mind. She smells like home.

This young woman, by her mere presence, was bringing out things in him that he had suppressed for years, both intentionally and unintentionally.

He brushed lightly against her arm with his body as she brought her hand to meet his; his body felt as if it were on fire or that possibly she had branded him.

"Sara Sidle." They shook hands.

"Gil Grissom." Their hands were still joined.

"Yeah, I know." She laughed, not willing to let go of his hand. "I'm not sure why I lit into you, after all I am a physicist, a scientist; I work for the State and am really not religious at all. I really don't know why but I felt I needed to push your buttons. You are an excellent speaker. How on earth did you come up with the conclusion: _If the evidence changes, so must the theory; _What were some of the other cases that made you reach such a logical conclusion? Please tell me more.

_Oh God, she's sexy and smart._

He fell in love with her then; he just didn't know it yet. He knew he was in lust, but he didn't quite know how to put the name love on the other emotions he was experiencing.

* * *

He had taken her out to dinner that night, following their shared class.

"Would you mind if we stopped in this store?" Grissom pointed to the children's bookstore as they walked together down the street, close, but not quite touching, after sharing a comfortable meal at a quaint Italian restaurant.

He wanted to lace his fingers through hers, but he had only just met her earlier that day at his lecture. He had spent the reminder of the day with her hovering at his side.

She had sat beside him during the conference on Trace, but truthfully, he didn't hear a word his friend, Zack Whittington had said, because he was far more aware of the beautiful brunette only millimeters away. He had impulsively asked her to dinner afterward; she had volunteered her services as a tour guide when he asked her where the best place to eat was located.

"Do you have to buy something for your children?" She looked him up and down as they removed their heavy winter coats. It was below freezing outside. She knew he didn't wear a wedding ring or she wouldn't be escorting him on a tour of the city in which she lived.

They had not really discussed their personal lives; they had only discussed things they had learned at the conference, keeping their conversations on a professional level.

She knew wearing or not wearing a wedding ring didn't indicate he was married, but she hoped he wasn't. He could be divorced and/or have children. _How could he have reached his age of 42 without a woman claiming him? He was so attractive, for an older guy_. Sara wanted to carry him back to her apartment and ravage him.

Her question startled him. "No, I'm supposed to get a gift for a co-worker's child."

Sara breathed a sigh of relief, but realized he didn't really reveal the status of his own domestic situation. She took deep breath and asked: "Do you have children?"

He looked at her incredulously. "No."

"Do you want children?" Sara ventured.

He was quiet as they entered the small shop. They hung their overcoats on the coat rack at the entrance close to the display of the new children's book, _Because I Love You. _

They browsed the many books and gifts the store had to offer. Each offered a suggestion occasionally, but generally they kept their silence.

He finally decided on an appropriate gift for Lindsey: a pop-up book of insects.

He surreptitiously watched the young brunette as she stroked a plush stuffed animal as he paid the clerk for the book. A bolt of desire shot through his groin. He made his way to her and hovered behind her. His chest to her back. He inhaled the fragrance of her shampoo. He began to invision a future with her, filled with happy, smiling children.

"I don't think I wanted children until today." He whispered into her ear.

She shivered as he stood behind her.

* * *

He left San Francisco with her email address, her work number, her cell number and even her home phone number. Sara had the same information on him.

They had not progressed their budding relationship beyond anything purely platonic, but spent the remainder of the week sharing meals and exploring the city. He did, however, touch her at times, softly on the back when entering a room together or tapping her on the shoulder or arm to get her attention. She responded in kind, keeping so close to him while walking together, surely a personal space violation, but Gil didn't seem to mind.

He had thought to ask her to his hotel more than once, but he didn't see her as merely a one night stand. And that's all it could be. He enjoyed the ease of their flirty friendship.

But when he got back to Las Vegas, he tried to let the memory of her fade, but was unsuccessful. She was memorable; she was under his skin. He fantasized about her when alone in the privacy of his home and at work, wondered what it would be like to have her working a scene with him. He saw the future and she was in it. He wanted her for a lifetime.

They exchanged occasional emails. No phone calls or instant messages, because he knew where that would lead: phone or cyber sex. He tried to keep their emails straightforward with only references to work and recommendations for cases or reading materials to stimulate and improve her as a forensic scientist.

They did, however, swap real post-office-delivered birthday cards each August and September. When he received his card with her flowing _love, Sara_, he responded with a simple _from Grissom_.

The following year, she signed: _Love looks not with the eye, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind _along with a _love, Sara_.

He responded with: _Love is the enchanted dawn of every heart_ and _from Grissom_.

He began to think of her only as a fantasy, reasoning she wouldn't want an old man such as himself when she was so young and vibrant. He had no idea what to do about their relationship, if indeed that was what it had been. He had never kissed her, only dreamed of her lips on his. He had never held her hand, but he imagined her hand touching parts of him that few had.

He had no reason to return to San Francisco; and alas had no reason to invite her to Las Vegas.

Two years later, he finally had a reason.

**TBC**

**Reviews are found amusing, although not entirely necessary, but they are graciously welcomed. :) chauncey**


	5. Chapter 4

See Prologue for Disclaimers and Other Notes

Thank you to my two wonderful betas: Stephen Greenwood and BeckyCSI. And to Greg for all his wonderful help.

_Until the Epilogue, this story is a Flashback told by Grissom to his therapist. Please make note of this while reading._

There is a huge jump in the story line from 1999 to 2009 from last chapter to this one. Never fear, you haven't missed anything. Also there is some very watered down smut in this chapter.

Also there several references to things that have happened in the series contained in this chapter, so if you spot something that looks familiar, then it probably is. Shout out to the following Episodes: "Bite Me"and "The Case of the Cross Dressing Carp".

My undying gratitude to all who have reviewed the previous chapters and thank you to all that have read this story.

* * *

Remembering The Good Ole Days

* * *

Chapter 4

May 2009

"Push Sara." Grissom whispered into her ear.

"I'm going to kill you for doing this to me," she shouted in response. "I know how to get rid of a body so no one could ever find you."

And he knew she meant every word she had just uttered.

"Honey, I love you." He moaned as she squeezed his hand so tightly, he wondered if he would ever have feeling in his digits again.

"I am NEVER having another baby!" She screamed at him, as a contraction ripped through her body.

"Take deep breaths, Sara." he verbally cued her, reminding her of the Lamaze breathing techniques. They had taken the classes together. Neither missed a session; this pregnancy meant more to them than work had ever had.

The delivery room was quiet for a few minutes, except for the deep breathing exercises the couple were performing. The nurse was monitoring Sara's blood pressure and the female doctor was poised at Sara's juncture awaiting the arrival of the Grissom child.

"Here it comes," Dr. Hannagan could see the crown of the baby's head straining against Sara's opening. "Deep breath and push, Sara."

Having done as the doctor requested, Sara's ears were met with the wonderful sound of a screaming baby.

Dr. Hannagan voice carried over the sound of the newborn's cries, "It's a boy. Congratulations. It sounds like he has very healthy lungs."

Gil beamed, as his eyes moved from Sara to the baby, back to Sara.

Sara was breathlessly beautiful, he thought.

The doctor cut the cord quickly and handed the baby to the nurse who swiftly weighed and swaddled the child.

Sara closed her eyes as when more pain hit her as she expelled the placenta.

Gil moved toward the baby and took the boy from the nurse. He reverently carried him to his sweating wife who lay panting, watching every move the medical personnel made with the newborn.

Gil placed James Howard Grissom into his mother's waiting arms and watched as the boy quickly clamped onto her exposed breast.

The baby was named for Jim Brass who had finally caught the bullet that ended his life earlier that year and for Gil's father.

Gil Grissom was at peace with the world.

* * *

"Gilbert Grissom!"

He smiled when he heard the loud explosion of his name coming from behind the closed door of their bathroom.

He knew she would have positive results even before she conducted the test. He was a scientist after all, and following the many experiments they had performed together, alone in the privacy of their bedroom, it was only the natural conclusion to what nature had intended. His smile grew wider as he made his way to his partner.

Eight months later, they welcomed William and Regina into their rapidly expanding family unit.

Gil Grissom had never felt so secure with his life as he did with the birth of the twins.

* * *

Sara Sidle-Grissom sat in the office chair of Dr. Barbara Hannagan.

"After this one, we can't have any more. Gil will be 60 when this one is born. And I'll be 45. I think four children are enough for us. We aren't getting any younger, for sure." Sara told her OB-GYN.

"You do know the risks, I'm sure, of the possibility of Down's syndrome with the one you are carrying now, correct?" The doctor removed her glasses and looked Sara in the eye.

"Yes, of course, but you said that when I had Jamie and then when I was pregnant with the twins. The odds are more favorable for a child with Down's as each year passes when an older couple is attempting to have children." Sara continued to maintain eye contact with the doctor.

"Dr. Lee Middleton, your family physician could perform a vasectomy for Gil in his office without problem. That would be the least invasive of all your options." The woman physician picked up the phone, ready to call to schedule him an appointment. "Gil, is that something you would consider?"

Gil was standing at the window, looking out over the city from his fifth story vantage point. He turned to Sara first, smiled, then looked to the OB-GYN and said, "Sure, I'll get 'snipped'."

He then looked at Sara and said: "I think I'll retire from the Crime Lab. I'll stay at home with the kids. And you can go back to teaching physics at WNLV. I'll be 'Mr. Mom'."

Four months later, they were in the same delivery room in Dessert Palm as they had been seven years earlier with the birth of Jamie. Cody Grissom was the fourth and last child of Dr. and Dr. Gilbert Grissom.

Cody did not have Down's syndrome.

Gil Grissom never felt as relieved in his life with the birth of their last child.

* * *

"A man and woman arrange to have the night alone. They have a romantic dinner. The kids are staying with neighbors and friends. A bottle of tequila. Any special plans, Mrs. Grissom?" Gil playfully whispered into Sara's ear while she was drying their dishes from their evening alone together.

"That sounds kind of familiar, I'm not sure I want the evening to end with me dead on a staircase, with my head bashed in. Remember that case?" She turned to look at her still very virile husband.

"Yes, _Stairway to Heaven_," he answered as he took her into his arms. "I'll take you to heaven right now, if you let me."

They kissed. He pulled her closer. Their passion for each other was still a living, breathing, highly explosive thing between the two of them. He ducked under her chin and lightly bit her neck.

Gil then pressed Sara against the cabinets in the kitchen, unwilling to let her loose. His lips captured hers as her arms enclosed around his neck, pulling him closer to her. He grinded his pelvis into hers as their erotic dance escalated.

"Let's take this to the bedroom. We wouldn't want you to break a hip or anything like that dear," her laughter filled him with resolve.

He picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his mid-section. He carried her up the stairs before she slid down his body, quickly undoing his pants, as she kneeled in front of him. She loved that he still went 'commando' even after all these years.

She pushed him against the wall in the hall leading to the bedroom and took her leisurely time with his hard velvety appendage bringing him almost to the point of eruption.

Sara stood up, pressing her own body into his. Brown eyes met blue eyes, wordlessly communicating their needs to each other.

Their lips met again, not with their former passion, but still claiming their rights as lovers.

He wavered at the entrance to their bedroom as he watched her doff her clothing, standing nude before him. He really didn't know what he had done to deserve such a wonderful, loving woman.

He pulled off his only remaining garment, reached for her hand, kissed her palm reverently and suddenly, without warning shoved her onto the bed, followed by him pouncing immediately on her.

When they finally came together, both exclaimed the other's name and the words, 'I love you' were never far from their lips.

* * *

"Sara?" Grissom called into the dark expanse of their bedroom.

"Yes, dear? The sound of Sara's voice came from close to the window that opened to the backyard.

"Why aren't you in bed?"

The sound of his sleepy voice comforted her.

"I was just thinking that our children were growing up. They'll all leave us soon. Jamie is going off to college next year and soon the twins and then Cody." He heard her sniffle. She sounded sad.

"Oh darling, it's okay. They are still our children and they will always be our babies. It doesn't matter how old they get. And soon, they will all have children of their own. And knowing Jamie, Gina and Cody, they'll not need much prompting in they department. They will make us some beautiful grandbabies and we can spoil them them to death. But Billy is too much like me. You will probably have to find him someone. I don't know if a girl in this day and age would be willing to patiently wait for him to come around. He is very focused on his education and future."

"I'll be on the look-out for him. He is so much like you. I love our kids so much."

He felt the bed dip from her weight as she settled back into their bed.

"I love you."

"Ditto." She responded.

He took her into his arms as they curled their bodies together. Gil's eyes felt heavy and soon, lured by the sounds of Sara's even and steady breathing at his side, he was asleep.

* * *

Sometime later that night, Grissom awoke for no apparent reason. Sara was in his arms; tattooed against his side. Her warmth comforted him; the feel of her body next to him never failed to amaze him. They were as much in love now as when they married.

He remembered his proposal and the bee that stung Sara as a result of her 'freaking out'. She had continued to help him occasionally as he studied the colony collaspe disorder, but his hypothesis had been incorrect, so therefore his conclusion had also been incorrect. But he would never forget in all his years, the look on her face under the bee keeper's mask when she said 'yes'.

If it were possible, he pulled her closer to him, wrapping himself in her embrace as he gently fell back to sleep.

**TBC**

**Reviews are found amusing, although not entirely necessary, but they are graciously welcomed. **

**:) chauncey**


	6. Chapter 5

See Prologue for Disclaimers and Other Notes

Thank you to my two wonderful betas: Stephen Greenwood and BeckyCSI.

Note: this chapter is a tad bit early secondary to the fact that I'm going out of town on Monday and I tend to believe it's better to be early than late.

_Until the Epilogue, this story is a Flashback told by Grissom to his therapist. Please make note of this while reading. And this is the last chapter before the Epilogue._

There is another huge jump in the timeline from the previous chapter to this one. You didn't miss a thing.

Also there several references to things that have happened in the series contained in this chapter, so if you spot something that looks familiar, then it probably is. Shout outs to the following Episodes: "Built to Kill, Parts I and II" If you spot another episode, let me know, so I can give it proper credit. Oh, and the future gadgets that I describe in this chapter are only figments of my imagination, but who knows, somebody might read it here and then invent it for real.

My undying gratitude to all who have reviewed the previous chapters and thanks to all that have read this story.

* * *

Remembering The Good Ole Days

* * *

Chapter 5

July 2028

He saw Conrad Ecklie before Ecklie saw him and he was able to duck behind the large plant in the newest restaurant at the oldest standing casino in Las Vegas.

Gil and Sara had been invited to the new book party of their friend and former co-worker, Greg Sanders. Since he had written his first book, while a CSI in 2007, he had published 14 other tales of the mob-ruled era of Las Vegas' history in the ensuing twenty one years.

Grissom had looked forward to seeing Greg, having only talked to him via the video phone. He hadn't seen him in person since Cody had been born.

What he hadn't expected was seeing Conrad or Diane Ecklie. He wondered why of all people, Greg would invite Conrad Ecklie to his party, but Griss figured it was merely to shove the fact that Greg had accomplished so much as a CSI and a writer, lecturer and talk show host down Ecklie's throat.

Grissom was still, to this day, embarrassed over the incident with Diane's her sister, because sometimes for lack of anything better to do, Catherine still chided him about his experience with Carol. Although Catherine had inherited all of Sam Brun's holdings and she operated four of the most sucessful casino/showplaces in Las Vegas, she and Grissom still maintained a close personal relationship, often meeting for coffee or dinner somewhere quiet just to keep their friendship. As far as Gil knew, Catherine only teased him about what had happened and that Sara had never heard the tale.

"What is it between you and Ecklie, anyway? He's been trying to destroy you and me for more years than I can count on one hand and you keep ducking and hiding from him." Sara's voice carried over the din of noise by the old band, Nine Inch Nails, Greg's favorite band of all time.

He still flushed when he remembered the episode, even if it had happened 30 years previously. "Just before I met you at the Forensic Academy Conference in 1998, I had a date with Conrad's sister-in-law, which ended very badly." Gil confessed to his wife of twenty years.

"How badly?" Her razor sharp eyes bore into him.

"She was very drunk and she molested me."

Sara was silent for a few moments before she laughed out loud, "Bullshit."

"No, dear, I'm telling you, she was all over me." Grissom responded. "Conrad never understood why I never took her phone calls or why I never called her. That's why he's hated me all these years and you too for that matter, because soon after I met you, I was completely enamored with you."

"Nice way of getting out of that, I must say, Bugman." Sara smirked.

Diane Ecklie spotted Gil and Sara as they made their way to their table. "Gil, can I talk to you for a minute?"

He paled, but said, "Sure."

Sara pulled away from them giving them some privacy, but she could hear Diane's short statement to her husband.

"When you dumped my sister, we all hated you. You broke her heart. But it was the best thing for her. She married the famous Texas hold 'em poker player, Nick McKay, the year after the two of you dated. She had a relatively happy life, even if she did harbor ill feelings for you. She passed away earlier this year from ovarian cancer. I don't hate you anymore, Gil and I'm sorry for holding it against you for so long. We thought you dumped Carol for that Sara you ended up marrying. Conrad told me he had tried to have her fired several times to protect my sister's honor. I'm so sorry, Gil."

Sara was dying to know all the details and she spotted the still radiant Catherine Willows breezing into the party on the arm of a much younger man.

* * *

Later that night, the phone rang sometime around 3 a.m. Reflexively, Gil answered the phone with his usual gruff, "Grissom."

He recognized the voice of Warrick Brown. "Griss, I need you to do a consult. Sorry for waking you up, but I need the best and you are it."

"What's up Warrick?"

"I got a corpse covered in bugs, all kinds from flies and maggots to dung beetles." The assistant director of the Las Vegas Metro Crime Lab responded.

"High profile case?" Grissom questioned his former protege.

"Yeah, you could say that. The body is our former boss and former sheriff from way back when, Brian Mobley. He was found dead earlier tonight in his home."

"I"ll be there in twenty minutes."

Grissom kissed his still beautiful, sleeping wife on her forehead and began to get dressed. He left her a note on her beside table attached to her alarm clock reading:

_S: Warrick called. Big case with bugs. Don't know when I'll be home. Love, G_

When Sara woke up and read her note, she smiled. She certainly loved her husband and was happy he would have something to occupy his mind for a while.

* * *

Gil Grissom entered the crime scene, carrying a silver case, filled with the new gadgets criminalists were now using throughout the nation.

He had never used some of the equipment before: there was even an instant DNA analyzer. He was still an old school crime scene investigator (after all he was 72 years old) but if he'd have had this new implements when he were an active CSI, then criminals would have never taken so long to be arrested.

Sgt. Roy Gatlin ushered him to the body of the former sheriff of Clark County.

Brian's body was duct taped to a chair with arms, his head leaned obscenely to the back. There were bullet holes in each of his thighs and one to the left side of his temple. It was a gruesome crime scene.

Warrick Brown stood near the body taking digital photos and nodded when Grissom arrived.

"Pretty bad stuff here, huh, Griss?" Warrick pointed to the body of their old boss.

"I wonder what Brian did to deserve this?" Grissom questioned as he noted the presence of fresh dung beetles and green blowflies.

"Nobody deserves to die this way,"the gray haired Brown answered. "What do your little friends tell you?"

Grissom took out a pair of tweezers from his kit, pulling a dung beetle from one of the wounds on the victim's thighs. He held the beetle close to his blue eyes to study the insect. "Rigor has set in. Looks like he's been dead for about 15 days, but until I do a timeline, I can't be for certain."

Warrick watched as his old friend and boss gather the insect evidence from the body. He thought the old Grissom style had not changed in the least. Grissom took his sweet time, procuring many samples, extra emphasis was placed on labeling the containers properly. Warrick thought he was experiencing _deja vu_ because he'd watched Grissom perform the same methods for as long as he had known him.

The coroner's assistants arrived, bagged, and removed the body. Brown photographed the body before it was moved and cut the duct tape carefully off of the body. He dusted the outer portion of the tape with Grissom's trademarked fingerprint dust, 'Red Creeper', which was the standard now for dusting for prints. Warrick found nothing, but he did spot a partial print when he turned the tape over to the sticky side. He photographed the print with his digital recorder, mashed a button and began searching through AFIS. After only a moment, the digital read-out stated there was six possible matches living in the greater Las Vegas Metropolitan area.

Grissom continued to document the insect activity and noted a steady stream of ants leading out of the room into the kitchen. Grissom followed their trail, only to find that it suddenly ended without explaination in the middle of the kitchen. _That's odd, _he thought to himself, before he return to the scene in the other room.

"Do you have anything yet?" He asked Warrick.

"Six possible matches to a partial I found, but nothing else." Warrick frowned.

Grissom and Warrick then grid checked the rest of the sadly run-down house, that appeared to need more repairs than either of them would have expected, searching for other evidence. Nothing probative was found by the two seasoned criminalists.

Later, the pathologist in charge of the autopsy beeped Warrick with the autopsy results. He and Grissom were checking out the daily computer log comings and goings of the six possible suspects. They hurried to the morgue.

When they arrived at the new autopsy theater. Grissom was impressed with the equipment and with the pathologist.

"Dr. Phillips, it's been a long time since I've seen you." Grissom smiled at the former coroner's assistant.

"Dr. Grissom. How is your lovely wife?" David asked hesitantly, he knew Grissom was aware of his former crush on the young Sara Sidle.

Gil smiled. "She fine, teaching at WNLV. Our oldest is 19, attending Harvard, like his mother."

"No doubt," the totally bald man answered. "Dr. Robbins passed away two weeks ago, he was buried in Virginia. Did you know?"

"Yes, Albert and I stayed in contact. We were unable to attend the funeral in person, but I did watch the Video Service. And Sara and I did send a flower arrangement."

"IT was a beautiful ceremony. I'll really miss him." David suppressed a tear before continuing. "Now to the reason you guys are here: former Sheriff Mobley died as a result of drowning."

Warrick and Grissom stared at David with opened mouths.

"What's that you always said, Griss: _First opinions are crucial, but if the evidence changes, so must the theory_. Looks like that's the case here. We need to start all over."

Warrick slapped Gil on the back and thanked David for the information. "How about I buy you a drink, old man?"

"A Scotch would be right up my alley." Grissom smiled.

**TBC**

**Reviews are found amusing, although not entirely necessary, but they are graciously welcomed. **

**:) chauncey**


	7. Epilogue

See Prologue for Disclaimers and Other Notes

Thank you to my two wonderful betas: Stephen Greenwood and BeckyCSI.

If it weren't for KeeganElizabeth, who listened to my moaning and groaning about this epilogue, there would be no ending to this story.

Shout out to "Leaping Lizards" and if there are any other regular series episodes I failed to mention, please let me know--I like things to be right.

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story.

This is the end of this story. See notes at conclusion of this chapter.

:) chauncey

* * *

Remembering The Good Ole Days

* * *

Epilogue, Part I

December 2044

It was a cold winter day when they buried his wife.

Gilbert Grissom didn't know if he could go on without her.

Their four children were grown, living their own lives.

He was an old man, a widower now.

He despised that term.

He had always thought he would go first, after all, he was older by a good fifteen years. It stood to reason he would be the first to go, but at 73, she just didn't wake up one morning.

The memory flashed through his head: he woke up slowly, getting his bearings before opening his eyes. He felt her beside him, but he knew instantly something was wrong. She was far too cold.

Gil remembered the last thing he had told her before he drifted off to sleep that night:"I love you, Sara."

"Ditto," was the last thing she said to him.

Tears rolled down his face as her coffin was lowered into the ground. He threw a single rose onto the top of the casket, looked at their fine children, shivering in the cold, and braved a small smile at his youngest son. Gil felt the blood stop for a moment in his brain. He knew immediately what had happened before he collapsed.

* * *

September 2045

It would have been her 74th birthday. Their children, grandchildren and Gil and Sara's friends were scheduled to attend a party at Desert View Nursing Home to celebrate the day Sara Sidle-Grissom had been born.

Gil decided to invite his new therapist to the party. After all, he had told her a lot about their life together and she had asked appropriate questions without interrupting him. Jill seemed very interested in his life story. He rather liked the young woman and unless he misinterpreted her at some point, he knew she was single.

Because Gil Grissom had an ulterior motive.

Greg Sanders and Warrick Brown were the first to arrive for the party. They had gone to Griss' room where he was dressed and waiting patiently in his wheelchair. Warrick wheeled him down to the small dining room where the party was to be held. Greg was busy talking to another of the residents, making small talk for no reason other than for the amusement of himself and the legless man.

When they arrived at the small dining room, the three men looked around at the decorations. The activity staff at the nursing home had decorated the room with bright helium balloons and streamers.

Nick had sent a bouquet of flowers, Sara's favorite blossoms, from his ranch in Texas. The beautifully arranged flowers were the center piece of the table which also held a large bowl of red punch with matching cups; a rather large white sheet cake bearing the words: _For Sara, with all my love._

Catherine Willows soon breezed into the room with a very handsome young man on her arm. She was now 82 years old and didn't look a day over 50. She could afford the expensive plastic surgeries, after all she did run seven of the most poplar casinos in Las Vegas. The young man at her side was only necessary arm candy and was introduced to Grissom as Karsh Hemingway; Gil became somewhat amused at the man's name.

Warrick eyed Catherine and wondered to himself for at least the millionth time, _What if?_

The grandchildren all attacked the wheelchair bound man when they entered the room screaming, followed closely by each of their parents.

Jamie had come with his fiancee, Ashton, along with his two children from his previous marriage, Kyle and Jake, both twins age six.

Billy came alone, as usual, he was married to his job, the most like Gil of all the Grissom children.

Gina came with her husband Hunter, and their two: Keegan and Jennifer, eight and five respectively.

Cody Grissom came bearing his new wife and child, Dakota and Emily, a four month old, in his arms.

Grissom held Emily, cradling her for a long time in his left arm, as he watched his family and appeared intent when someone entered the room.

Billy noticed his father eyeing the door and wondered if he was he expecting someone. _God I hope he doesn't think mother is going to stroll in here._ He was worried about his father.

Jamie and Cody talked to Catherine, Lindsey and Warrick about nothing in particular, until someone mentioned Bruno. They remembered the boxer fondly.

Gil told the tale how he and Sara had acquired of their beloved pet. Lindsey began to tell the story of the time Sara had hired her to bathe the beast and the havoc it had caused in the perfectly cleaned townhouse when Sara was pregnant with the twins. Lindsey had the whole room laughing at the memory. Billy, shyly, told of the time he had placed his twin sister on the dog, like a horse and Bruno 'bucking' her off. Gina laughed, butunconsiously fingered the scar on her shoulder left by the incident.

The families were milling about, happily sharing stories of the Grissom-Sara romance. Gil kept eyeing the door as Billy surreptitiously watched his movements.

The party was in full swing with entertainment provided by the grandchildren. Kyle was attempting to play the piano in the corner of the room and his brother, Jake was playfully singing an old Vegas standard, _Everybody Loves Somebody, Sometime._

Grissom appeared to have nodded off as Warrick and Catherine stood close to him.

"Shhh, Warrick, I think he's asleep. I'm going to get someone to help Gil to his room, he looks worn out." Catherine called Lindsey over with a quick signal.

"I'm not sleeping Catherine. I was thinking of Sara." Grissom said. "And I had a surprise for one of my children, but it doesn't look like it's panning out."

* * *

Jill Dillard walked into the therapy department of Desert View Nursing Home early that Monday morning, surprised to find the room dark but the door to the room open and Dr. Gil Grissom sitting silently in his wheelchair.

"Why didn't you come to the party yesterday? I invited you." Grissom questioned, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

"I didn't want to impose on your family and friends." Jill flipped the lights on and made her way to her cluttered desk.

"But you were welcome. You are now a friend of my family," he said soberly.

"Thank you, Dr. Grissom, but I just didn't feel comfortable in that situation. I'm sorry to have disappointed you." The brunette said with a frown.

Grissom wheeled his chair toward the door and semi-shouted over his shoulder, "I'll be back in an hour or so."

Jill performed her daily rituals of making coffee, checking for messages and missives from her boss, scanning her palm print into the scanner to verify her attendance and to effectively 'clock in' for work. Her assistants had yet to make it to work so Jill sipped her coffee as she began to catch up on her notes on the residents at the nursing home.

Exactly an hour later, Gil Grissom wheeled himself into the therapy department, followed closely by a young man who closely resembled him.

Jill could tell it was one of his sons, but didn't know which one. She was immediately transfixed by the man. He was so handsome with dark chocolate colored hair, slightly curled, longer than the current style but that still had a professional look to it. His eyes were his father's: startlingly blue and intense. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

Grissom introduced them: "Jill this is my son Billy. Billy, this is my therapist, Jill. I've been wanting the two of you to meet."

Jill offered her hand to the second son of Gil and Sara Grissom.

He took it, but was shocked by the electric current that ran the length of his arm.

Jill felt a jolt of desire. She looked again into the cool blue eyes of the man standing before her and smiled seductively.

Billy cleared his throat, but kept his hand laced in Jill's.

Gil smiled.

They were perfect for one another.

He knew they would be.

He rolled his chair out of the room, unnoticed by the two young soon to be lovers.

**THE END OF THE STORY BY MSCSIFANGSR. **

**HOWEVER!!**

**COMING SOON TO A FAN FICTION SITE NEAR YOU: "The Reunion"**** Another epilogue has been written by Keegan Elizabeth to reflect a true ending to the story. **


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